Dreams of a Hunter
by Jcon52
Summary: The lines between friend and foe become faded as demons mobilize to release the latest version of Hell on Earth as Diana attempts to figure out her place in this new world.
1. Chapter 1

Screams filled the room; the ungodly shrieks bouncing around a small, darkly lit room, under the screams was a deep chanting. The words were spoken by a small, dark-haired woman who sat in the middle of the room; she seemed unperturbed by the screams and merely chanted from a large leather bound. She lit a large match, the flame flared up, cast dark shadows on her face, lighting her pitch black eyes. She threw the match in and the large, brass basin in front of her and a huge flame erupted, sending a singed smell into the air.

The woman began to chant louder, and soon a pounding was added to the overwhelming noises, the woman faltered slightly in her chanting, but continued on. Soon the shrieks ceased, a bone-chilling cold dropped into the room, the woman looked up and a huge boom sounded through the room.

"No, not yet!" The woman snarled, and stared intently at the middle of the room where a small pocket of air had begun to shiver and glimmer. Looking back towards the source of the sound and pulled out a large knife that glinted slightly.

"It's been a real bitch finding you, Eliza," a voice called out mockingly from the shadows to which Eliza hissed, her spit shooting out. A young man walked out of the shadows, holding a knife, and possessing a casual swagger that belied little awareness to his dark surroundings. "It's like you didn't want to be found. Imagine that."

The young man stepped towards her, angling his knife, a look of intensity had washed over his face. The woman, Eliza, charged towards him her knife held in an outstretched hand. The young man slipped to the side, almost casually, and grabbed her arm, twisting it with a rough pull. Eliza screamed but whipped around, her knife aiming directly for the young man's neck, but with a quick duck he avoided it. And as if she were made of paper he jammed a knife into her back and she let out a quick scream and her body flashed a few times with an orange light illuminating her skeleton.

"Bitch." The young man growled as he cleaned the blood off his knife with her shirt before dropping her.

Diana shot out of bed, her body drenched in sweat, her blond hair stuck to her skin. Her chest heaved with the effort of her heavy breaths as she looked around her room, trying to center herself. The dream had came again, only more realistic, longer. Turning over she placed her feet gently on the old, oak floor and walked to a window, from where a soft orange light was falling. Outside her window lay expansive rolling hills, filled with green grass and large spots of yellowing grass. The land was divided, seemingly at random, by wooden fences that were falling apart.

"DIANA," a deep voice bellowed from downstairs; she tore her glaze from fields and moved to her aging oak dresser. Diana quickly pulled on a flannel, dotted with small holes, a pair of ratty jeans and some tall, beat up boots, flecked with mud. She descended the stairs, each step creaking with the weight of her foot, and upon reaching the bottom of the stairs and took a sharp turn into the kitchen. As Diana walked down the hallway a smell of bacon and butter wafted down the hall and enveloped her in warmth.

"Dad?" she called walking in to the kitchen to see a newspaper spread out on the table and her dad engrossed in the paper. He was in his mid-fifties with salt and pepper hair and a completely gray beard. Glasses hung on the end of the bridge of his nose and a pen was sticking out of his mouth as her dad's gray eyes intensely stared at the crossword before him.

"Oh you're up," he replied, good-naturedly, "Breakfast is almost ready, just a couple more minutes. But I need you to go down to the barn and check on the horses. I heard them making some noises earlier."

"Yeah sure," Diana replied as she gulped down some orange juice, "Where's Mom?"

"She's getting changed," her father replied sheepishly, "I may have spilled a little on her."

Diana chuckled a little as she walked through the backdoor and down the crumbling wooden steps. She walked down the hill towards the aging barn, that had once been a bright red, but had since faded into a dark, pockmarked maroon. The hill was dotted with divots from various burrowing animals and Diana had to work to avoid them, it almost appeared as if she were playing a game of hopscotch. As she neared the barn she heard a gentle clapping sound, the barn door was banging softly against the wall as a summer breeze blew against it.

"What the…." Diana muttered as she neared the door. Her father was always incredibly meticulous about making sure the door was locked, in case any animals were to sneak in and startle the horses.

The barn door swung open with a loud creak as Diana gently pushed and poked her head inside. Everything seemed to be normal so Diana stepped inside and walked towards the three horses standing next to each other in adjacent stalls. She walked over towards the horse closest to her, a large bay horse with deep brown eyes that regarded her suspiciously. Diana reached her hand out and placed it on the neck of the big horse, feeling a gentle heat radiate out, she looked around the barn one more time about to leave, until a flash of red caught her eye. Not moving closer, she stared at the red, it was attached to a backpack she had never seen before.

Stepping back slowly, Diana turned around and then padded towards a dilapidated, wooden cabinet; she reached her hand and felt around on the top of the cabinet until she placed her hand on a small key. Unlocking the cabinet, Diana shot her hand in, pulled out an old rifle and whipped around, the rifle butt against her shoulder.

"I know somebody's in here," she called out, trying to contain the shake in her voice, "Show yourself and maybe I won't shoot you."

Nothing moved and Diana gently stepped towards a large pile of hay, a spot she had hidden in repeatedly as a child. Putting her feet down gently, Diana approached the haystack, but stopped right before it. She clicked the safety off and lowered the barrel of the gun to point at the stack.

"I'm going to count to three until I unload into you," she warned, the shake in voice becoming more obvious, "One…. Two…"

Two hands shot up from the stack, palms up, and a gruff voice shouted out, "Alright, alright! Don't shoot. Please."

Stepping back Diana watched as a young man rose from the stack, covered in individual pieces of hay, sticking to his body and poking out at strange angles from his hair. The man shook his head and the hay flew out, and as he stepped out of the haystack and shot Diana a quick smile. Staring at him for a moment, Diana leveled her gun until she was hit by a punch of recognition.

"You…" Diana gasped, her voice cracking as she stared at horror in the young man she had been dreaming about for weeks.

"Me!" The young man said casually, almost lightheartedly, especially for somebody who had a rifle aimed at him, "Now, listen, I'm sorry about crashing in your barn, I needed a place to stay and this seemed like the most viable option for me. Anyway, I'm just going to-"

"You're the man who killed her, you killed that woman, Eliza," Diana stuttered and a thunderstorm flashed across his face. Without hesitation he shot forward, knocked the rifle up and grabbed it, turning it around on her. His face was filled with suspicion and a stony resolve.

"How do you know about that?" he demanded, his voice steady, "Who are y-"

A scream rent the air between them and both their heads shot towards the source, the house. Without another thought, Diana sprinted towards the house, ignoring the young man with the gun on her. A split second after her, he rushed after her, they both darted up the hill and Diana crashed through the back door into the kitchen.

Diana stared at horror at the scene set before her; in the middle of the kitchen stood her parents, both of them facing her. Diana looked at the knife that her father's pale fingers clenched, the knife whose sharp, metallic blade lay against her mother's neck, leaving a thin line of red. Tears streamed down her mother's face, terror flooding out of her blue eyes; her father's face was exuding hatred, his gray eyes pushing anger towards Diana.

"Dad," Diana groaned, her voice cracking and tears pooling in her eyes, "Dad, what are you doing?"

Her dad said nothing, only let out a gut-wrenching laugh that shook the floor; it was a sound that Diana had never heard anyone, let alone her dad, make. Sobs wracked her mother's body and Diana tried to make eye contact, but her mother's eyes stayed glued to the floor. Diana stepped forward but her arm was wrenched back by the man behind her, the man that Diana had forgotten was there.

"Get behind me," he ordered, his voice a low growl and he stepped in front of Diana, the gun leveled at the couple in the middle of the kitchen.

"I didn't expect you to be here too," her father said, in a voice that she had never heard before, "But I guess we're all racing to get to the girl."

"Let the woman go," he demanded, taking another step forward, "Or I will send you to the deepest pit of hell."

Diana's father merely laughed at the man, who then dropped the rifle and pulled out a knife, the same knife that he had been wielding in Diana's dreams for weeks. The man then began to chant something, quietly at first, in another language, but it sounded familiar to Diana. Slowly the chanting got louder and a strange expression her father's face, extreme discomfort, perhaps. Her father began to twitch and write and Diana watched, unable to look away, as the spastic motions caused her dad to slowly cut across her mom's neck in jagged lines, the cuts slowly getting deeper. The cries from her mom slowly grew quieter and Diana watched as everything drained from her mom's eyes, and unable to support both him and her, her dad dropped her to the floor, her mom's limp body splaying out in an odd position.

"NO!" Diana screamed, her voice cracking and tears racing down her face and as she charged towards her father the man held her back, continuing to chant. As his chants got louder her father seized, not moving an inch; Diana watched in abject horror as a black smoke began to flood out of her father's mouth, it stayed in the air for a moment, writhing and wriggling, as if it was trying to escape until it shot down into the floor, leaving a large charred circle. Her dad stared at her for a moment, his eyes pooling with tears, before he dropped to his knees and then fell face first into the floor. A small ribbon of blood began to unfurl on the back of her father's shirt, darkening the plaid, flannel fabric as Diana stared in horror at the scene in front of her.

"Let's go," the young man growled and forced Diana out the door. Once they were on the grass he swung Diana around to face him, his green eyes staring intensely at her.

"Who are you? What did that demon want with you?" he demanded, his voice low and intense. Diana stared at him in disbelief for a moment before a deep red rose in her face.

"Who am I?" she screamed, breaking free of his grasp, "Who the fuck are you? You crashed in my barn and now my parents are dead after you made fucking black smoke fly out of my dad. My parents are DEAD. And I swear to God that I'm about this close to shooting you in the head."

"I'm Adam and I'm the guy who just saved your life so now you're going to answer some of my questions," he explained in a low growl, but upon seeing Diana crumbling his voice softened somewhat, "Now I need you to tell me what that demon was talking about. What did he mean that people are racing after you? What did the demon want with you?"

Diana stared at him, her stormy eyes wide as she studied him, "Demon? What the fuck are you talking about?"

Adam stared at her, with surprise apparent on his face, "How do you know about Eliza, but you don't know about demons?"

"I…" Diana stuttered slightly, sobs beginning to wrack her body, "I've been dreaming about it. For weeks. I… I keep watching you, with that knife, killing her."

Adam stared at her, trying to form words, but it looked as if he was unable to speak. Slowly, Diana dropped to the ground and crumbled in upon herself, sobs crashing through her body. Adam walked forward, discomfort radiating from him, and he kneeled down placing one hand on her shoulder, awkwardly rubbing her back.

"Listen, I know everything is shitty right now," Adam said, his voice soft, "But right now I need you to pull yourself together. I'm convinced that more of them will come after you so we need to go. Right now."

Diana looked up, her eyes bloodshot and watery, "I don't _know _you. I'm not going anywhere. I need to call the police or… Somebody."

She stood up, muttering about things she needed to do and Adam rolled his eyes as he stood up behind her. He rushed forward, raised his knife up, and with a swift downward motion he hit her head with the butt of the knife and she crumpled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope you liked the first chapter, let me know how I'm doing. Also, sorry about the dialogue heavy chapter, trying to work on character development and shit.**

Diana tried to burrow deeper into her bed as sunlight streamed into her eyes, but her bed was stiff and uncomfortable and a cold had descended on her at some point during the night. Opening her eyes, Diana's vision was flooded with bright sunlight, leaving her blind for a moment. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Diana realized that she was not in her bed, but a moving car instead. Looking around, Diana saw that the driver was the young man she had met and this realization brought with it a flood of memories.

The pain that she felt when realized her parents were truly dead felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach and she curled over, tears welling up in her eyes. She slowly sat up, fighting back her tears, and jutting her jaw out in an act of rebellion, this man would not get to her.

"Where am I?" Diana looked around, but nothing looked familiar. They were driving past expansive fields of wheat, the stalks forming golden pools as they flashed by, "What do you want with me?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out," he looked over at her, his grassy green eyes studying her carefully, "But I'm not going to hurt you, you can trust me."

Diana snorted, derisively, "Trust you? I don't _know_ you. All I know is that you're some jackoff who knocked me out and drove away with me. I need you to let me go. I promise I won't call the police."

Adam looked back at the road, his right hand clenching the steering wheel, the knuckles paling in comparison to the dark, leather steering wheel. Diana looked around the car: it was an old muscle car, with fading leather seats and an aging dashboard, the sun having sucked out most of the color. The backseat was filled with his belongings, clothes mostly, but also several very old looking books with yellowed pages and cracked covers, sticking out of one of the black duffels was the butt of a rifle, the metal on the trigger glinting dangerously at her. Seeing that, Diana spun around, her eyes wide.

"After…. After my parents died," Diana began, her voice cracking, pulling Adam's eyes from the road, "What did you mean by 'demons?'"

Adam didn't saying anything for a while, his lips pursed as he thought, clearing his throat he said, "I meant exactly that. Demons. Burning in hell, black smoke, Devil. All that."

Silence descended into the car for another moment, the oppressive feeling making both of them squirm, slightly, in their seats. Two cars passed by, both old pickups, the roar of their engines breaking them from the noiselessness.

"Now, I have a question for you," Adam began, slowly picking his words as if he were walking in a minefield, "Tell me about the dream. The one about me."

Diana sucked in her breath, hesitating, as she formed her answer, the memory of the dream dredging up unpleasant feelings, "I… I had it for weeks before… Before you came. It was the same every night, I would be in the room, watching when the woman-"

"-She wasn't a woman."

"What?" Diana looked over at him, her eyes stormy, and he looked back at her, his face set as if it were stone.

"Demon. She was a demon."

"Right. Well whatever she was is chanting and then you come in and… And you murdered her." Adam let loose a quiet growl, but didn't say anything, his hand squeezing the steering wheel even tighter. Diana watched as he ran his other hand through his dark hair, there was an air of frustration around him, as his brow furrowed, his dark eyebrows almost touching. As Diana watched him, she realized, with a start, that he could only be a two or three years older than her, he was 20, 21 maybe. "Do you actually believe what you're saying?"

"What do you mean?" He asked as he reached out and turned the radio on quietly, a gentle country song floating out of the aging speakers. "Do I believe in demons? It's not a belief. It's a fact. An indisputable fact. Demons, ghosts, witches, along with a million other things that you hid from as a child. They exist. And I hunt them."

For a third time silence fell upon the car, except for the song floating through the air, "When we kissed goodbye and parted, I knew we'd never meet again…"

The music hung between them, floating in an unbridgeable gap between the two until he reached forward and turned it back off, the radio clicking into silence. Diana sat in her seat, examining her interlocked fingers, the peeling blue nail polish reminding her of the nail painting she and her mom had planned for that week, but she shoved the thought out of her mind.

"Well, alright, believe your crazy shit, but if you expect some Stockholm shit to go down, you are sorely mistaken," Diana huffed, crossing her arms, eyes glued to the peeling pleather dashboard.

"You saw your dead father kill your mother and then I exorcised that demon in him, yet I'm the crazy one? Fuck that," he snarled, and reached over and opened the glove box. He pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook and threw it into her lap, "Read that. Maybe you'll believe me."

With shaky hands Diana opened the book to the first page, her eyes raking over rough sketches and hurried letters. As she flipped through the book she became engrossed in the ravings of this obvious lunatic; the book was filled with stories of monsters, demons, and things Diana couldn't classify. If the book was to believed, Adam traveled around the country breaking dozens, if not hundreds of laws in order to kill these things. After almost half an hour, Diana placed the book back into the glove box, much more wary of her kidnapper now.

She turned her head, looking outside, watching as the car slowed down and individual stalks of wheat came into view. A thought flitted into her mind, her breathing quickened, her heart beating irregularly, but she remained still, not moving except for the rise and fall of her chest. Taking one final breath, Diana kicked the door open and threw herself out of the car, her body hit the pavement, hard, and rolled several feet. The pavement tore at her skin, leaving friction burns and gashes, but at the moment Diana couldn't feel it.

The car's brakes screeched, Diana pulled herself up onto her knees and looked forward, fear flashing across her face. Twisted around in his seat, Adam stared at her through the back window, his face splashed with surprise and confusion and she saw his mouth form a word as he threw the car into reverse. Diana got onto her feet and jumped forward, off the road, and into the field. As Diana sprinted through the field, the stalks reached for her skin, scratches raking across her arms. She ran faster and faster, until her foot caught a divot in the ground and she plunged down.

Laying on the ground, she struggled to climb up, her hands grabbing at the ground as she shot forward until she stood upright. Looking back for a moment, she saw nothing but she heard the pounding of his feet and the tearing of the wheat.

Her breaths tore at her lungs, her feet pounding against the soft ground, her eyes blurring with tears. She could hear the breaking of stalks behind her, she stretched her legs as far as they would go with each bound, until she broke through the stalks and stumbled into a yard.

Sitting in the middle of a large, bright green yard was a small, white farmhouse surrounding by picturesque flowers. Pausing for a moment, Diana moved towards the house, looking over her should, but not seeing her kidnapper she turned back around. She was ten feet from the house.

But as she began to think she might make it, a thundering force knocked her to the ground and pinned her. Adam climbed on top of her, with one hand pinning her right hand, the other holding a gun, pointed at her head. He snarled as she struggled against him, her arms pushing and scratching at him, but he did not budge.

"Listen, very carefully, I do not want to hurt you, but if you keep running away, I will," he moved the gun down towards her left thigh and pressed it deep, "I will shoot your leg, right here, and then it would be a real bitch for you to run. Now, I'm going to get up, we're going to walk back to the car and every step of the way, my gun will be aimed at _this_ leg. Try to run and I shoot. No hesitation. Do you got it?"

Diana slowly nodded her head, her gray eyes wide, her mouth tight.

"I promise you, I will let you go once I know what that demon wanted with you, but no matter what you think, you are safer with me than you are by yourself."

Carefully, Adam rose, relieving her of the pressure of his body, and stepped back, keeping his gun aimed at her. Unsteadily, Diana stood up, her eyes glowing with anger and fear. She had become disheveled in the chase, there was wheat sticking out of her blond hair, blending in; her arms and face had become cut up, with blood slowly dripping out of a few spots. She walked towards Adam and stopped only a few inches from him, the gun pressing into her stomach; Adam's green eyes stared into hers, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but then stopped.

"It may not happen soon, but I will kill you," Diana growled, stepping away slowly and into the cornfield, her blond hair disappearing for a moment between the plants. Adam stared after her, looking slightly crestfallen, even forlorn.


End file.
